Call
by gallifrey calls now
Summary: Set during Grilled Cheesus. After Burt's heart attack, Kurt really needs someone to talk to. So he calls up a random number, and a boy named Blaine answers.


Call

Kurt closed his eyes and opened them again. That _couldn't _be his father. His father wasn't so pale, so sickly-looking, with dripping IV's strapped to his arm. His dad didn't always have his eyes closed, didn't look like he was ready to welcome death.

Or at least, Kurt wasn't ready to let his dad welcome death.

"I need a minute," Kurt whispered. He heard Mr. Schue shift behind him.

"I don't think you should be alone, Kurt," Mrs. Pillsbury said quietly.

Kurt frowned and held back tears. "Just give me a moment alone with my father."

He hated the way his voice cracked.

Mr. Schue placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and squeezed it lightly. "We'll be right outside," he said. Kurt nodded, and shifted closer to the bed as he heard Mr. Schue and Mrs. Pillsbury walk outside, leaving the door open.

He forced himself to speak. "Dad?"

There was no answer. Kurt bit his lip. Carefully, Kurt took his father's large hand in his smaller one. He rubbed the calluses on his dad's hand, as if making sure he was still there physically. His father didn't respond to the gentle touch.

"Can you hear me? If you can hear me, squeeze my hand." Kurt tried not to cry, tried to be strong for his father. "I'm holding yours right now," Kurt assured him. "Just squeeze back." Kurt sniffed. "Come on, dad. Just squeeze my hand."

The only sound Kurt could hear was his heart breaking all over again. It was like he was eight once more.

X

"_Mom?"_

"_I'm here, baby."_

_X_

A few minutes later found Kurt outside his father's room again. Mrs. Pillsbury approached him carefully, Mr. Schue choosing to stay behind. "Are you alright?"

Kurt sniffed slightly and batted her hand away. "As well as I could be, considering the circumstances."

"I'm sorry," Mr. Schue said.

Kurt nodded, unable to say anything else. He grabbed his messenger bag and with one last look at the visiting hours posted in the waiting room, he walked outside rigidly.

"Kurt," Mr. Schue called after him.

"I'm going home," Kurt shrugged his shoulders, grabbing his car keys.

"Will you be alright?" Mrs. Pillsbury asked, worry evident in her voice.

"I'll cope." Kurt shrugged again. With a beep, his car unlocked and he opened the door. "Mr. Schue? Mrs. Pillsbury?"

"Yes, Kurt?" she asked softly.

"I – thank you." With those words, Kurt slammed his door and drove out of the parking lot.

X

Having reached home, Kurt slowly undressed, folding his clothes neatly and placing them on his bed. He changed in the only pair of pajamas Burt had bought, two years ago. They were made of cotton, and the pants were entirely too large for him (still) and they had the most disgusting print on them, but he couldn't bring himself to complain because they somehow smelled of his father. He wandered to Burt's bedroom and chose one shirt Kurt knew his dad only wore around his house and tugged it on. Looking into the mirror, he felt slightly more comforted in those large clothes. He felt like his father was embracing him. The distinguished scent of motor oil and cologne were oddly comforting.

He sat down on the floor in the basement and started sorting through the many boxes neither of them could throw away after Elizabeth Hummel's death. Carefully he pulled one out and his heart broke some more.

It was a picture. He was five, and his mom was holding him in her lap as his dad was stuffing his face with some donuts. It was probably Jake who took the picture. Little Kurt was grinning his normal, toothy smile, while his mother was holding him with one arm around his waist and with another pushing Burt's face away. Burt had a whole box of half-eaten donuts, and it hurt because they looked like a _family_.

Kurt missed that. He missed it so much. He dug around the box some more, his fingers coming in contact with some paper. Frowning, he took them out and it took all of his remarkable self-control not to start crying right then and there.

It was a kindergarten drawing of stick figures. His father was represented by a tall stick which had a circle in front of it. His oval face had two blue points and a wobbly smile, and something that vaguely resembled a hat was sitting atop his head. His mother was way shorter than his father, a triangle in front of her own stick body, representing a dress. Her hair fell in crazy light brown curls around her face, and her lips were a disgusting shade of red. Stick Kurt was between them holding both of their hands, one of his stick arms longer than the other.

And sixteen-year-old Kurt cried.

X

It was almost an hour later (an hour that was filled with heavy sobs) that Kurt calmed down and cleaned up the basement. He briefly called Carole to tell her of his father's condition and ignored her offer to come by and cook him something.

Kurt was still on the floor when the need to talk to someone arose. But he didn't want to talk to Mercedes, or Artie, or Tina, or Finn, or _Rachel_, out of all people. Sure, he and Mercedes were close, and he considered her one of the most fabulous friends in the world, but he wasn't sure that she would understand him.

Kurt was hit with an idea. He was going to do the most crazy and insane thing he ever did, damn the consequences.

He picked up his phone and dialed a number.

X

_One more phone number_, Kurt thought, _and that's it._

So far he'd managed to call a dating line, where the lady at the phone attempted not to yell at him, some sort of lawyer's office in New York (_"well, unless we're somehow secretly related or something, I don't see how I can help you, son"_), an old lady who wouldn't shut up about her cats long enough to listen to him and some wannabe gangster asshat. Frankly, Kurt was tired, and he just wanted a sympathetic ear. But America was large, and if he didn't have luck with the last number, he'd just give up and call Quinn or something.

Kurt pressed _Call_ and waited, phone at his ear.

"_Hello?"_

Kurt found himself exhaling loudly. "Um. Hi. I – sorry to disturb you, but, do you have some time?"

There was a silence at the other end, where the only sound was that of quickly walking footsteps. _"Uh, sure. Who are you?"_

Kurt was silent for a second. "I'm just – nobody. I'm someone who needs to talk to someone else. I didn't have luck up until now, so I hope you're a nice guy."

A chuckle. _"I like to think I am. Were you just calling random numbers hoping to find someone to talk to?"_

"Yeah."

"_Why don't you talk to your parents or something?"_

Kurt swallowed. "That's where the problem lies."

Silence. _"Oh. Did you have a fight?"_

"No. I – can I just dump my problems on you? I'm sorry, but I really need to talk to someone who can judge me, without actually knowing who I am."

"_As long as you're not a serial killer, and you're not selling anything or hoping to get my name and bank information, I suppose I could listen."_

"Thank you," Kurt found himself saying. "_Thank you._"

The other person laughed gently. _"Start from the beginning."_

X

"I was eight when my mother got sick. She had to go to the hospital, and I distinctly remember my dad telling me that she'll be fine, and that she'll be back in time for Christmas. I remember believing him. We used to visit her every day, after Dad picked me up from school. She'd kiss the top of my head and ask me what we did that respective day. I used to tell her everything." 

"_What happened?"_

"Right after Christmas, a day before the New Year, she passed away," Kurt said quietly.

"_I'm sorry."_

"It's been eight years. I'm over it."

_"You can stop if you want to."_

"It's like I'm out of my mind," Kurt said. "I'm basically spilling my life story to some stranger."

"_Again, you can stop and I'll forget everything."_

"It's like you're not real. You're way too nice." 

"_I could be acting."  
><em>

"Since you just suggested that, I doubt it."

X

"When I was twelve I realized – or rather, the other kids at school did – that I was different. In a bad way."

_"How so?"  
><em>

"I'd never had a crush on a girl. It seemed silly. I was _twelve_ and who searches for a relationship at twelve anyway? But I never really fit in with the other boys. Not really. They played soccer and football and I was the kid who wore bowties and had a girl's voice. If my dad noticed it too, he never mentioned it. And then the name-calling started." Kurt paused. "You can hang up if you want to." 

There was a moment of silence. _"Please continue,"_ the stranger said, _"you've made me curious."_

Kurt took a deep breath in. "A few months later, I experienced my first crush. It wasn't pretty."

_"How so?"_

"I was crushing on a boy. Are you sure you don't want to hang up?"

A soft, comforting laugh. _"You're not scaring me away if you're gay. Unless you want me to or something comes up that I have to, or if you make me really uncomfortable at some point, I won't hang up."_

Kurt smiled to himself. "Thank you," he said simply. "Anyway. His name was Joshua and he was thirteen, a year older. Some of the kids in my class noticed me looking at the boy differently. It was the first time someone called me that."

"…_called you what?"_

Kurt shrugged, forcing himself to sound nonchalant. "A faggot. You know."

"_I do. I'm sorry you had to go through that." _A pause. _"It's over now, isn't it, though?"_

"No. Not really. High school is better than middle school, but in a way it's worse. But I digress. I had this crush on Joshua for a few months, until I finished seventh grade. He was completely ignoring me, but his friends kept insulting me both to my face and behind my back. By the time summer came around, the people I used to call friends completely abandoned me. Of course, friend was a tall order, considering they only used to stick around for French homework and whatnot.

"And then, after Joshua left the school, I could think clearly again. I was terrified, about myself, about the people around me, about my – my sexuality. But then I accepted it as a part of myself, began dressing even more fashionably than before – my mom taught me to love Vogue at a young age," Kurt chuckled. The stranger chuckled with him, before going silent once more. "The bullying became worse. I stood tall and took it. It was one more year in middle school anyway, and surely in high school people would worry more about taking their SATs than picking on the gay kid, right?"

The stranger said nothing, but somehow Kurt knew the silence wasn't judging. "So the summer passed. It was okay. I went shopping, buying all sorts of clothes. It's in a way how I express myself. People don't seem to listen to my voice, so I had to talk some other way. Apparently my being so 'flamboyant' offends them." Kurt chuckled. "Let them be offended. I'm not giving up my clothes." 

The stranger chuckled. _"I'm sure you're very controversial."_

Kurt laughed softly. "I am. So high school started. I was elated. I was confident and I was walking with my head high. And then I was surrounded by jocks and they threw me in a dumpster. It wasn't the most wonderful of things."

"_You shouldn't go through those things. It's not right."  
><em>

Kurt shrugged. "I know. But they don't care, so I pretend I don't either. It infuriates them, I think."

The stranger was silent, and Kurt knew he wanted him to continue.

"And then I remember walking down the corridor, when this poster caught my attention. It said, and I quote: _'Auditions for Glee Club'_. I signed myself up. There weren't many people there. Our choir teacher also happened to be our Spanish teacher, and when I sang it – it felt undeniably _right. _Like I'd just found myself." 

"_What did you audition with?"_ the stranger asked. _"I – sorry, I'm sort of a music guy myself."_

"Don't worry, I'm the one dumping my problems on you, I won't get upset if you ask a question or two," Kurt teased, before clearing before. "I sang _Mr. Cellophane_ from the Chicago Musical. I got in. And I was absolutely elated, like I'd found my place. There were a few other students there too – a guy in a wheelchair, who raps like nobody's business, a sweet but shy Asian girl, who used to fake a stutter due to insecurities, one of the most fabulous girls in the world, and now one of my good friends, and this diva with two gay dads. Is it bad that I'm proud that I'm her only competition vocally?"

_"Not at all,"_ the stranger laughed. _"Two gay dads, huh?"_

"Yeah," Kurt said. "Pretty awesome. Apparently she was raised to be a star. And she started singing Celine Dion since before she could actually talk. I'm pretty sure she's making that up. So anyway. Then this football player – quarterback – joined in, and the diva sort of fell in love with him. He had a girlfriend though, a blonde cheerleader." 

"_That's stereotypical."  
><em>

"Yeah," Kurt said. "I know. So anyway, we weren't many in Glee. And we were sort of pathetic, only the six of us. So our choir teacher made us put on a show for the whole school so we could recruit people. But the diva – Rachel – said that we should change the song so it appeals to teens. I was skeptical. So was everyone else. But she's _Rachel_, and we can't say no to Rachel. And so we performed 'Push it'. With sexy moves and suggestive thrusting and all that jazz. It was horrible."

The stranger started laughing. _"Did it work?"_

"Of course it did. I remember I slapped Finn's – the quarterback's – butt sometime during the song. I liked him."

The stranger chuckled. _"How did he react?"_

Kurt shrugged. "Confused. I wasn't out," he explained. "So after that performance we had more people joining in. After awhile, my crush on Finn grew bigger. He's kind of a doofus though. Anyway. My dad met Finn's mom. I tried to set them up because of my idiotic infatuation with Finn. His father died when he was younger, so she was a widow, like my dad. They liked each other. Carole and Finn moved in. Our Glee club won Sectionals, even though our setlist was leaked. And my dad became real close to Finn."

Silence. _"Hey, you okay?"_

"I – yeah, I'm fine. I felt like dad was swapping me for Finn. Finn was the perfect son. Straight, liked football, talked about girls… I felt terrible. So for awhile, I pretended I was straight. I joined the football team. I was the kicker. And I was actually kind of good at it… But I didn't like it. I swapped my clothes for overalls and some large shirts that were kind of horrible. It was one of the darkest periods of my life. I wasn't _myself._ I actually got a girlfriend. I purposefully made out with her in front of my dad. He was just confused. He thought I was gay, and then I was straight. It hurt really badly when he said, '_When you make up your mind, I'm here, alright?_' But Brittany – the girlfriend – she's sweet. And kind of stupid. But sweet nonetheless. She didn't understand, but she was supportive. She said that, quote, '_Dolphins are really just gay sharks_.' And dad continued to hang out with Finn. One day, he came to school to pick him up, and I just snapped. I yelled at my dad and left without letting him explain anything. I went straight to the auditorium and just sang my lungs out. After I finished, he was there, clapping. And he apologized. Because it was hard for him. To have a gay son. But he was trying. And it was okay. For a while."

"_What happened then?"_ the stranger asked, voice soft.

"It was fine for a while," Kurt repeated. "There was still the bullying, but it was okay. I could handle it. I had my dad." Kurt's voice broke. "And then I didn't have my dad." 

Kurt stopped talking altogether.

"_Hey," _the stranger said immediately. _"If you don't want to talk, you don't have to. Okay? It's late, so you should get some sleep. So should I, actually."_

Kurt glanced at the clock and hiccupped slightly. It was already half past eight.

"I should go," he said softly. "Thanks for listening." 

There were a few seconds of silence, and Kurt started saying goodbye, when the stranger talked again. _"You can call me again tomorrow, at the same hour, if you want to,"_ he said tentatively. _"I don't mind, and you sound like you need someone to talk to."_

"You don't have to do that," Kurt whispered.

"_I want to. Just – call me tomorrow, okay?"_

"Okay."

"_What should I save your number as?"_

Kurt started. "Uh. My name's Kurt."

"_Kurt,"_ the stranger said softly. _"Okay, Kurt. I'm Blaine. Nice to meet you."_

"Same," Kurt whispered, feeling lighter. "Thank you, Blaine."

_"It was no bother," Blaine_ replied. _"Then – we'll talk tomorrow?"_

"If you want me to bugger off, just tell me," Kurt joked.

"_You'll bugger off only when you want to," _Blaine said, _"or when you start creeping me out."_

"Then make sure to tell me when I'm creeping you out."

Blaine chuckled. _"Goodnight, Kurt."_

"Goodnight, Blaine," Kurt said softly, before hitting the end button and realizing they had talked for a really long time. "Thank you," he whispered one more time to the silence of the house.

X

Kurt didn't manage to fall asleep that night.

X

The next day, he arrived at school an hour and a half early. He went to the choir room and took a seat in the front row, listening to the silence. He occasionally sipped on the coffee he'd bought, and once stood up to throw it away. The time passed quickly, and not before long, he heard footsteps. Tina was in front of him, face sympathetic and arms held out. He stood up and let her envelop him in a warm hug. Mike patted him on the shoulder. He nodded at Quinn when she rubbed his arm. He tried to smile, to let them know that _it's alright, I'm fine_, when Santana and Brittany stopped in front of him.

"Hey Kurt," she said quietly. "I'm really sorry about your dad."

"Thanks, Santana," he replied, feeling tired in spite of the coffee he'd had earlier.

Brittany held something out. "I did a book report about heart attacks, if you want to give it to the doctor," she said. Kurt looked down and saw a red heart surrounded by bumblebees. "It got knocked down a whole letter grade because I wrote the whole thing in crayon," Brittany explained.

Kurt tried to smile; he really did.

"What the hell happened?" 

Kurt looked up to see Finn as he stormed into the choir room disturbing the respectful silence.

"My dad's in the hospital," Kurt explained in a small voice.

"Yeah, I know, my mom just called me," Finn told him, half-yelling. "I feel like I'm the last one to know."

Kurt pushed his irritation back. "Well, I'm sorry, Finn, it didn't occur to me to call you because he's not your father."

"Yeah, well, he's the closest I'm ever gonna get," Finn shot back, annoyed. "And I know that it might not look like what everybody else has, but I thought we were…" Finn trailed off, his voice losing the angry quality. "…sort of a family," he finished softly.

Kurt shook his head slightly and sat down, staring down.

"I guess I just didn't – I didn't like overhearing other people talking about you, I guess," Finn continued, slowly, hesitantly.

Kurt looked up at him, then moved his bag from the chair to his right. Finn sat down hastily, and reached over to pat Kurt's shoulder. In warning, Kurt raised his finger. Finn dropped his hand as if burned.

"Hey, guys," Mr. Schue said, walking in. "Our thoughts are all with Kurt. And I know it's sort of hard to really focus on anything else –"

Mercedes interrupted. "Mr. Schue? I've been struggling, trying to think of what to say to Kurt all day," she said. Kurt looked down. "And I realized I didn't want to say it, I want to sing it."

Mr. Schue gestured to her and she walked in front of the piano. "This song is about being in a very dark place and turning to God," the girl explained. "It's a spiritual song. Mr. Schue, is that okay?"

"That's fine." 

"Tina, Quinn, can you help me out with this?" Mercedes asked softly. The girls nodded and quietly went to stand next to Mercedes.

As they finished, Kurt began to talk. "Thank you, Mercedes," he said softly. "Your voice is stunning but… I don't believe in God."

"Wait, what?" Tina asked, frowning.

Kurt glanced around the room to see several hurt expressions. "You all professed your beliefs, I'm just stating mine. I think God is kind of like Santa Claus for adults. Otherwise… God's kind of a jerk, isn't he? I mean, he makes me gay and then sends his followers around telling me it's something I chose. As if someone would choose to be mocked every single day of their life. And right now I don't want a heavenly father. I want my real one."

"But Kurt," Mercedes pleaded, "how can you know for sure? You can't prove there's no God." 

"You can't prove there isn't a magic teapot floating around the dark side of the moon with a dwarf inside of it who reads romance novels and shoots lightning out of its boobs, but it seems pretty unlikely, doesn't it?" Kurt snapped. 

Brittany leaned over to Santana. "Is God an evil dwarf?"

"We shouldn't be talking like this," Quinn said firmly. "It isn't right." 

Kurt sighed, irritated. "I'm sorry. You can believe whatever you want to, but I can't believe something I don't. I appreciate your thoughts… but I don't want your prayers."

He walked out. No one called after him. No one followed him. He didn't expect them to.

X

"I'm sorry for what you're going through, lady," Sue Sylvester said, frowning. "I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy. I guess I don't have to… I think Mary Lou Retton is like an orphan or something."

Kurt looked at her questioningly and she shrugged.

"I don't like what Schuester is doing in that classroom even more than usual. But I can't go to the school board without an official complaint from a student."

"So you want me to be your scapegoat." It wasn't a question.

Sue walked over to him and sat on the opposite chair. "You don't understand," she said. "I know at times I mess around with you guys for fun. I admit it. It aids digestion." She angled slightly closer. "But I'm not joking here. I want to be your champion."

Kurt sighed. "May I be honest?" 

"I encourage honesty," Sue smirked, "usually the truth hurts, and I admit it, I enjoy a hint of masochism."

"I don't care about religious debate right now," Kurt told her. "All I want to – my dad is sick. He needs me. That's all I care about right now."

"Completely understandable."

X

"I hope you're happy, Kurt," Santana snapped at him, twirling her ponytail.

Kurt looked at her lazily, but he was tense. "I'm having the week of my life, actually."

He thought of Blaine. He wanted to talk to him.

X

"Hey," Kurt greeted softly.

"_Hi,"_ the familiar voice said. _"You called."_

Kurt shrugged, although Blaine couldn't see him. "I wanted to talk." 

Blaine breathed into his phone. _"Then talk."_

"Okay."

X

"_Come on, love. Visiting hours are over."_

_"Will you call me if there's any change?"_

_"Of course, sweetie."_

X

"Yesterday, I called you for a reason. I just – couldn't take the whole thing on my own."

"_The whole thing?"_

"My dad had a heart attack."

"…_Oh. I'm sorry, Kurt."_

"Don't be."

X

Rachel's voice was gorgeous, as always. But it hurt Kurt even more than before to hear them pray. Because Kurt had prayed to God, and in response his mom had died. He was terrified the same thing would happen to his dad.

"What's going on here?" Kurt asked as Rachel stopped singing. Guilt flashed through all of their faces. "We were just – praying. For your dad," Rachel explained.

"Rachel, Quinn and I are taking turns," Mercedes told him, "we're from different denominations and religions, so we figured one of us is bound to be right."

Kurt wanted to scream at them, that no, none of them are right because this was his father, not theirs, and why the hell were they trying anyway?

"I didn't ask you to this," Kurt replied in a low voice.

"Honey," Carole started, "I know you're upset about what's happening. I get it. But friends help even if you don't ask." 

The back of his throat constricted, and Kurt wanted nothing more than to curl up on the floor and cry himself to sleep.

"Mr. Kurt Hummel?"

Finn gaped. "Dude, why didn't you just tell us you wanted to pray in Muslim?"

The woman glared at him. "I'm not Muslim, I'm a Sikh."

"She's going to see if acupuncture can improve the circulation to my dad's brain," Kurt replied shortly. "Amazingly, needles pierce the skin better than psalms." His voice was deliberately biting. "Can you all please leave now?"

They all shuffled past him. "We all wanted to do something," Rachel told him. He ignored her.

X

"I brought a Sikh to my dad today," Kurt told Blaine, "to make him better." 

"_Did it do something?"_

"She said it takes awhile for results to appear, but I want to stay positive," Kurt attempted a nonchalant shrug. "I – I don't want to lose my dad, Blaine." 

Blaine was silent for a few seconds. _"Do you want to talk about something else?"  
><em>

"Like what?"

"_Let me tell you about myself."_

X

"Oh my _Gucci_, that's hilarious."

"_What?"  
><em>

"You're from Dalton? As in, the Dalton Academy Warblers?"

"_Yes I am. You?"_

"McKinley."

"_As in McKinley High New Directions?"_

"I can't believe it. What are the odds?"

"_From all the people in America…" _Blaine trailed off. _"Am I stupid if I believe in destiny?"_

Kurt blinked. "I've never really believed in some sort of higher power or anything," he said carefully. "Why?"

"_Because hear this: you, a bullied gay teen, call me, an ex-bullied gay teen, who also happens to live in Ohio, only two hours away from you."_

Kurt gaped as he heard that. "I think this _is_ destiny."

Blaine started laughing. _"Would it be considered bold if I asked you out for coffee or something?"_

"No," Kurt replied, finding himself smiling. "After the visiting hours at the hospital are over, could we like, I don't know – hang out?"

"_I'd like that."_

X

Kurt entered the coffee shop, feeling slightly nervous despite himself. _Relax_, he gave himself a pep talk, straightening his shoulders. Looking around, his lips twitched as he found what he looked for; a boy in a Dalton uniform.

He walked silently behind him, before tapping his shoulder. Blaine swiveled in his chair, startled.

"Hi," Kurt said, "are you Blaine from Dalton?"

Blaine grinned a large smile. "Only if you're Kurt from McKinley."

Kurt could feel himself smiling back. "Coffee?"

Blaine nodded, standing up. "Coffee. Your favorite was a – nonfat mocha, right?"

Kurt blinked. "You remembered."

Blaine winked at him. "Of course I did."

"Well, at least now I don't feel ridiculous about remembering _your _preference – medium drip," Kurt said, flushing slightly.

Blaine's smile softened. "Yeah," he said, "that's right."

X

"Hey dad," Kurt said softly, reaching to touch his father's head slightly. "Remember when I said I called some random numbers and met Blaine?" He waited for a response. Getting none, he continued. "I met him today. In person. He's incredible," Kurt gushed, sniffing slightly. "I really want you to meet him. I think – dad? Is it too early to be falling in love?"

Burt didn't reply; of course not. But Kurt only leaned forward, holding his dad's hand firmly in his own, and placed a kiss on the top of his forehead.

"Because I think I'm falling in love with Blaine."

X

"Blaine!" Kurt exclaimed as soon as Blaine picked up the phone. "Blaine, guess what!"

He heard Blaine start laughing. _"Calm down, Kurt_," he replied gently. Kurt paused, still grinning ear-to-ear, and waited for Blaine to give him the okay to continue. _"Alright. Now tell me. What happened?"_

"My dad woke up!"

There was a pregnant pause, in which Kurt giggled a few times. He blinked his tears of happiness away as he waited for a response from Blaine.

"_Kurt, that's – Kurt, that's incredible. Oh my god."_

"I know, right?" Kurt beamed happily. "Even better, listen to this: I used to talk to him while he was unconscious, and apparently he remembered bits and pieces of it! This is crazy! Amazing!"

"_Amazing,_" Blaine repeated. "_I'm really, really happy for you Kurt. And I'm glad your dad's okay."_

"Yeah…" Kurt said, toning his excitement down a little bit.

"_So where's your dad now?"_

Kurt chuckled softly. "He kicked me out of his room. Said he needed to go to the bathroom." 

Blaine laughed with him.

"Blaine?"

_"Yeah?"_

"I – thanks. For everything. For listening when no one else would." 

"_So does this mean we won't talk anymore?" _Blaine's voice was slightly guarded; Kurt smiled as he heard the suggestion beneath his question.

"Only if I've bothered you so much you want to get away from me," Kurt teased, "because I sure as hell did not get bored of you." 

Blaine started laughing fondly. Kurt found himself giggling along. It was infectious.

X

"Why are you so happy all of a sudden?" Burt asked his son as Kurt held onto his hand tightly.

Kurt smiled softly. "I'm happy you're okay."

Burt smiled back. "I think that's only half of why you're so cheerful."

Kurt's cheeks reddened. "I may have called Blaine to tell him the good news while you were in the bathroom," he confessed, lowering his head.

There was a moment of silence in which Burt heaved a heavy sigh. "Kurt, I remember a lot of what you've said when I was unconscious – hell, I remember that Berry girl singing me some sort of religious song – and I particularly remember one part especially."

Kurt looked at him carefully. "What are you saying?"

Burt stared Kurt right in his eye. "That you're falling in love with this Blaine kid. I'm happy for you, son, but – are you sure about him?" 

Kurt smiled one of his wide, toothy smiles. "Yeah, I'm sure. Dad, he helped me a lot these past days, and he asked nothing in return."

Burt patted Kurt's head with his free arm. "I'm glad. You deserve every little bit of happiness you get, Kurt, and if that Blaine kid gives it to you then you might as well invite him to dinner."

Kurt's breath hitched. "Dad?"

Burt smiled. "I've invited Carole and Finn over a week from now. They came while you were at the cafeteria bringing me these –" Burt pointed to a tray of vegetables in distaste " – and I told them to come over. You can invite Blaine, too." 

Kurt blinked away his tears as he hugged his father tightly. "I missed you," Kurt murmured into his father's neck.

"I missed you too, kid."

X

"Are you _sure _he won't shoot me or anything?" Blaine joked weakly from his spot in Kurt's Navigator. Kurt patted the top of Blaine's heavily gelled hair in mock-comfort.

"Of course. Now get a move on – I'm hungry and if we're not there then Finn _will _eat everything off the table, never mind Carole tells him not to," Kurt said, smiling. "Come on, it's just my dad."

"Right," Blaine said, opening the door and stepping onto the pavement. "This is it." 

"_Chill_, Blaine," Kurt said. "We're not getting married or anything."

Blaine raised a triangular eyebrow at Kurt, who flushed slightly. "I cannot believe I just said that."

"I wouldn't mind, you know," Blaine said lightly. "I mean, having a husband that could regulate my wardrobe at all times would be incredibly beneficial."

Kurt blushed redder, but smacked Blaine's shoulder lightly. "I know. I've yet to see you out of your Dalton uniform. Let's just hope Finn won't start accusing you of 'spying on the competition'."

Blaine smirked. "Why would he be suspicious?" 

Kurt shrugged nonchalantly. "Vocal Adrenaline sent one of their guys to spy on us. It didn't end well. For Rachel."

"I'll have to know more details later." Blaine straightened his shoulders. "Now. Meeting the dad."

"You really do make it sound like we're getting married," Kurt replied, shaking his head in wonder. "Come on."

X

"I like him," Burt decided, half an hour after Blaine left. "He seems trustworthy." 

Kurt beamed. "I know." 

X

"Hey," Kurt greeted as he sat down in his regular chair at the Lima Bean.

Blaine smiled at him briefly, though he seemed slightly nervous. Under Kurt's questioning stare, Blaine shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"What's wrong?" Kurt asked, crossing one leg over the other, before noticing something strange about Blaine. "Oh my god. You're out of uniform."

Blaine grinned nervously. "I was kinda hoping you'd notice." 

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "Blaine, what is it?"

Blaine gulped, shifting forward in his chair to grab both of Kurt's hands and hold them between his. "I've been wanting to say this for a while," Blaine said quietly, looking at their joined hands. "Please don't interrupt me until I've finished," he pleaded.

Kurt nodded quickly.

Blaine took a deep breath. "Kurt, there is a moment… a moment, where you say to yourself, 'Oh, there you are. I've been looking for you forever.'"

Blaine's hands tightened on his. "I – the first time I've heard your voice on the phone, I knew something was special about you. And then when we first met face to face, and you remembered my coffee order, I had this moment, with you." Blaine took a second deep breath. "You – you _move me_, Kurt. And I was kind of – sort of hoping, you'd do me the honor of being my boyfriend?"

The silence stretched on. Blaine's hands slacked. "Please say something."

Kurt let out a shuddering breath he had no idea he was holding. "Oh my god," he said. "Oh my god, Blaine, you're so stupid."

Blaine raised his head to look right in Kurt's watering eyes. "Kurt?" 

Kurt laughed softly. "I can't believe you didn't notice," he said, wonder in his eyes. "I thought it was so _obvious._"

Blaine laughed awkwardly. "Kurt, I'm sort of confused here. Yes or no?" 

"Yes!" Kurt shrieked, lunging across the small table to tackle Blaine into a hug, coffee shop be damned. "I've only been crazy about you ever since you bothered to _listen_ to me!"

Blaine laughed too then, and stood up, taking a hold of Kurt's hand and walking him outside into the parking lot. Shooting a quick look around them to make sure no one would interrupt them, Blaine grabbed Kurt's head into his hands and kissed him hard on the lips. Kurt smiled into the kiss as he deepened it.

Calling random numbers? _So _worth it.

X

**Hello, Glee fandom. I hope I didn't do too much of a terrible job with this, but I've literally spent days with this plot bunny in my head and it wouldn't hop out. So yeah. This was formed.**

**I hope you guys enjoyed this little (long for me – my usual oneshot has around 1000 words. This? 6000) story, and hopefully, I'll see you guys with some more Klaine soon enough.**


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